Digital Ghost
by Senko Wakimarin
Summary: Deidara's relationship with Sasori is strange in the extreme, but he likes it that way. He only worries that his danna is losing himself to his art; only hopes that maybe here in the city of the puppeteer's birth he'll find some true connection to life.


_It started as a joke  
Just one of my larks to see  
if somehow I could reach you_

Sasori-danna has always been a bit of a mystery. I wanted to be close to him, but that was not something he was fond of. We… to say we didn't get along would be an understatement. Arguing is natural to me- my ideas have never really fit with anyone else's, and I am quite vocal about what I think. I've been fighting over my opinions since I was a child, with my friends, my mother, any one. So I didn't think our bickering was such a problem, even though he seemed to.

He was always going off on his own. He didn't like for me to see him, to know him. I might as well have been his enemy, especially when I was first recruited. Back in those days, I never saw him out of Hiruko, and for a while even thought that maybe that was his body. After all, Kisame-san and Zetsu- san are odd in appearance, too, and of course Kakuzu is all stitches and masks. We all are freaks of some sort or another, and we all have our secrets. After all, I was quite reluctant to let him see me without my shirt, wasn't I?

My determination to get to know my danna, who I respect even if I don't agree with him, was almost as much of a personal joke as it was a challenge. It was a long time before I made any progress at all, and then only because I, to quote Hidan's analysis, 'fucked up big time'.

_I swam into your shores  
through an open window  
only to find you all alone  
Curled up with machines_

It was a fight we were having, which had started in wind country and followed us home. On reflection, the fight started out over something very stupid: I wanted to stop for food, which he obviously didn't need, and he wanted to keep going. It built from there to an argument of epic proportions, covering everything from my hair to his dietary habits. Back then I thought he was anorexic or something, which was apparently a big mistake to mention. But how was I to know when I never saw him out of the shell? This was just before I had begun calling him danna; the title came as a result of our argument.

Any way, we would calm down and stop arguing for hours, and then one of us would throw something out offhandedly and we'd start all over again. When we finally reached the base, the only two there were Hidan and Kakuzu, and they seemed content to listen to us go at it while they played shoji. Eventually he said something to the effect that I look like a gender confused whore, so I told him he was an emotionless bastard, as devoid of life as his so-called art. Well, he shut up, and so I thought I was winning. I kept at it, because that's how you win an argument- you strike a nerve and then plunge in until your opponent has no choice but to back down. I started telling him exactly what I thought of his cold, macho attitude, and ended it by telling him that, quote "by reducing your argument to the fact that you think I look like a whore only makes you sound like a pubescent boy!"

Kakuzu choked on his drink and Hidan chuckled, shaking his head when I glanced at him. That was when I knew I had crossed a line. When I looked back to Sasori-danna, he was storming off toward his room- well, shuffling away quickly, which is as close to storming off as Hiruko can manage.

"He's only moody because he lost the argument, un."

Hidan laughed shortly, the cynical sound that holds very little humor. "Oh, kid, you have absolutely no fucking clue, do you? Damn. You just fucked up big time."

Then Kakuzu reached across the table and smacked his partner, gesturing for him to make his move. I was then ignored, as this ignited an argument between them, which is more than enough to get me out of the room. Arguments between them end two ways: bloody fights or bloody sex, neither of which I was interested in seeing. I followed after Sasori instead, thinking that perhaps in this state he might be a little more… more real.

He did not answer when I knocked on his door. So I kept knocking, first in hopes that he would lighten up, and finally in spite of his resolve not to respond. After nearly ten minutes, I got tired of his silence, and I slammed a fist into the door.  
"Sasori, grow up and answer me!"

Apparently, that was another nerve struck, because suddenly the door slammed open and I was shoved into the wall across the hall. A small, red-headed boy shoved his elbow into my ribs, glaring at me with passionate fury. The explosive anger was communicated through the eyes only- his face remained otherwise unfazed, calm and youthful, even bored. It was his voice that finally revealed that this boy and the emotionless, gruff Sasori I had been travelling with for months were one and the same.

"Don't tell me to grow up, you stupid, childish _brat_," he snarled, eyes blazing anger in an expressionless face. Upon closer inspection, I could see the obvious joints and overly smooth contours of the body. This boy was a puppet. Once again I was confused, but only for a moment.

The realization took me by surprise, and though everything was not yet clear, many things now made sense. I gaped at him, having trouble breathing with my back pinned to the wall and his elbow digging into my diaphragm, and then his name burst from my lips like a question. "Sasori?!"

His eyes sparked with a flash of dark humor, and I could almost imagine a sardonic smirk that was much to adult on those lips. "So you see, brat? I _am_ my art! I am _eternal_, and when you're dead and nothing but ash and a bloody mess, I'll _still_ be here to laugh. I've given my whole _life_ for art, so don't you _dare_ call it bland, or dull, or any other nonsense you think of. Because you know _nothing_, and you have no right to talk."

I swallowed tightly and then turned my head to cough slightly. Despite a lack of visible emotion, Sasori-dana was quite good at showing his anger. In fact, I don't think I've ever received a more thorough dressing-down than the ones he dished out, nor any quite as frightening. It was then that I started to really respect him, and think of him as a true superior… even as a real artist.

"Sasori… I can't breathe."

Really, I couldn't help it. The only thing I could think at that point was how nice it would be able to take in a regular breath, and by then he was just standing there glaring and not speaking. He growled and jerked his arm away, letting me breathe. I was actually surprised to find that he'd pushed me up off my feet. While I tried to catch my breath, he started to go back into his room. "Sasori-danna… I'm sorry I called you a boring bastard, un."

The words seemed to shock him, or maybe it was the new title, and he stopped in his tracks. He looked over his shoulder and I gave him a grin to show I was serious. For a moment we looked at each other, and then he faced forward again, shaking his head slowly. "You really are just a brat." He mumbled, but there was something new in his voice, something almost warm. I knew that I had entered something closer to him- I wasn't just someone he traveled with and fought beside, I was his partner. He went back into his room and when he didn't close the door but only left it open I grinned wider and accepted the invitation.

My shock at his room was clearly written on my face, but if he noticed he said nothing. Everywhere there were puppets, all in various states of creation and repair, neatly placed on shelves or on the floor against the wall. He had no bed, but instead a large desk littered with interesting tools. There were rows of shelves devoted to tiny bottles and bags of poisons, which I would later become intensely familiar with. And that was the first of many nights I would spend sitting on the floor amidst hundreds of lifeless dolls, watching my danna try and create eternity while ignoring me completely.

_now it seems you're slipping  
out of the land of the living_

Once I asked him if he always ignored his company. He did not look up from his newest creation; the most delicately carved and jointed hand, when he spoke.

"I'm not expecting any company."

I was tempted to be offended by that, but before I had a chance to, he continued in the same bored, disaffected tone.

"You invite yourself, Deidara. If you expect social interaction, go talk to Hidan. I am working." He paused, and I could only wait. I knew that if I spoke, I might miss something, because that is how my danna speaks. Insults first, and then he makes up for it. "Besides… you're here often enough to be a comfortable presence. We shouldn't need to speak."

They may not have sounded nice, but the words made me smile anyway because Sasori-danna never says anything he doesn't mean. He was telling me he liked me here, and I could stand being quiet if it meant a chance at really getting to know my danna.

However, after a few days I started to bring my clay with me. I could not tolerate the hours of my hands remaining still- for I was not allowed to touch Sasori's things. I began to wonder if my master was exchanging life for his 'work', because it seemed all he ever wanted or needed was to be building something. He existed in a world of death, of stillness and decay; he found art in things I just couldn't see. But he was calm there- we argued less in his room because he was in his element.

Nonetheless, he despises my work, and shows open scorn for my sculpture. He harps in that bored, all knowing tone, about the beauty of eternity. I've told him more than once that the only eternal thing is death- and how he laughs at me. He has escaped death, he says. He's a true work of art, because with his body as it was, he is eternal. Art, he claims, is found in the thwarting of death, of time itself. I suppose there's some truth to his words- he's beautiful to me, wooden constructs and all. I love him, and I appreciate how he defies the curse of time, his heart beating in a body which would never age or lose its beauty.

For a long time, he remained detached, even as I began to grow fond of him. Still, I came to look forward to our arguments and fights, because each one taught me something more about my danna. But I cherished most our moments of peace outside the cold and lifeless tomb of his room- I came to hate his insistence on staying there. I feared that he was losing himself and becoming as dull and without personality as his plethora of puppets. That he was abandoning me.

_Just take a closer look  
Take a closer look  
at what it is that's really haunting you_

It is important, I think, to note that I did eventually stop following him to his room every time he went. I could not stomach such silence for that long, and began to look for other things to occupy my time when we were at the base, which I thought of as home. Sometimes there are months between our assignments, and I too have begun to spend long stretches of time in my quarters. I sculpt, I read, I am bored. Once and a great while I accompany Hidan to a nearby bar, which of course led to the eventual misconception that I had a 'thing' for the pale zealot. Trust me when I say not to get on Kakuzu's bad side in regards to relationships.

Sasori does not eat, but he seemed to enjoy cooking. The first time he set about prepared me a meal, I wondered who taught him, and so asked. He did not look up from the measuring cups and ingredients to tell me that his parents had taught him. The coldness to the words told me that no more would be said, and the subject was closed. Sometimes I still wonder if his parents were the ones who taught him which things in life he was to value, or if it was their deaths which gave him the impression.

_I have to trust you'll know  
this digital ghost  
But I fear there's only so much time  
´cause the you I knew is fading away_

I suppose it's not my business how he handles himself, what he does to cope with whatever has happened to him in life. He is, after all, supposed to be the one looking out for me. But sometimes I watch him working on a puppet or mixing some new poison, and I feel such a great anxiety that I have to leave. I see him consumed in his world of death and murder, and I worry that he will soon be lost to me.

The only hope I have is that he means it when he says he wants to be eternal. I want to believe that, clever as he is, he knows the difference between protecting and killing himself.

_Hands lay them on my keys  
Let me play you again  
I am not immune to your net  
Find me there in it_

Sasori-danna and I do not have sex. This would be impossible, and frankly, I think it would be a little creepier than I am ready to handle. He touches me, and we have kissed. We exchange words of tender meaning and watch out for each other. We love each other, but we do not make love.

There are other ways of giving yourself to a lover.

When we are alone in the base, with only Pein-sama and Konan lurking and doing whatever it is they do in their spare time, we take advantage of the solitude. He collects whatever it is he wants to use from his room and meets me in mine; I'll have cleaned up whatever project I may have been working on before he gets there.

When he was alive, by which I mean when he had a normal human body, danna sometimes tested his poisons on himself. Not only did it build a tolerance in him to a number of toxins, but he said it gave him a thrill of mortality. Bringing himself close to death was a rush.

It is a rush to me too, but not necessarily because I'm close to death. When Sasori-danna injects me with his poisons, the pain I feel is torment; he is there to soothe my twitching, aching body. He holds me and I feel safe. I surrender myself to this morbid replacement of sex and to me it's better in so many ways. I give everything over to danna, put complete faith in him each time we do it; he could kill me easily whether with a simple mistake or in malicious intent. The nearness to destruction is tantalizing, but I know he would never make that mistake. The connection between us in those moments is deeper than could ever be achieved through simple sex.

My body eventually relaxes as I sweat out the toxin and regain control of myself. He likes to lay with me as I recover, holding my shuddering body against his and pressing his face against my hair. Depending on the day and mood this is sometimes sweet and sometimes creepy. It seems to me that he went out of his way to accentuate his lack of humanity in this new body- his torso neither looks nor feels like a normal human's. That coiled cord in his lower abdomen is disturbingly reminiscent of intestines.

Afterwards he prepares food that he will not partake in, and sits with me as I eat it. The food never fails to be perfect, though it's been years (or so he tells me) since he's eaten any of the things he's cooked.

_I won't go even if in  
your heart only beats ones and O´s_

Despite our bickering, I don't think I've ever really thought of abandoning my danna. Even after Itachi cheated and forced me into the organization, when I was resentful and spiteful toward all of them and what they represented, I was curious about who Sasori really was. Now I don't think I would be the same without him.

In a way I guess I am like my clay; easily molded in the right hands and stiff once set in a certain pattern. It takes a while for me to adjust to changes, but when I set into the adjusted shape it's just as firm as whatever had been there before. Right now I am Deidara of Akatsuki, partner to Akasuna no Sasori. That is me, without Sasori I'm missing part of my identity. Even if I didn't care for my danna as I do, loosing him would be a terrible blow.

As it is, I care too much for him. I love Sasori more than I have loved anyone else, and even if he is cold and short with me, I will never leave him without a fight.

_Switch you on my friend  
Pull you from that rip current  
But only you can fight against this_

Sometimes I wonder if there is something I could do or say to wake him up. I wonder what I could do to shock him, or make him feel something other than his need to remain forever unchanged. My love is not enough to have changed his mind, although he says he loves me back. What else could I give him, how can I hit him, where should I strike to make him understand that there is really more in the world than his 'eternity'?

Of course, I know that he's the only one strong enough to change his own mind. My danna is as stubborn as I am. He won't change until he sees good reason to.

_Just take a closer look  
Take a closer look  
At what it is that's really haunting you_

I have to hope that someday something will show him how far he's gone. Perhaps one day he'll catch a good look at himself in a mirror and see the young child staring back at him with an old man's eyes. Would he see the sad picture I sometimes see; the child lost and adult never-to-be?

Reality tells me that this will never happen. Sasori-danna likes his life the way it is; whatever happened to him to tell him that becoming a living puppet was the right path to take has shaped his whole life. It is too deep a wound to heal, and I doubt he wants it healed. He is exactly what he wants to be, no matter how sad it sometimes seems.

I wonder if he has any idea how disturbing and depraved he looks when you first see him. No child should look so world weary, but it is a child's body he has preserved and I can never forget that.

_I have to trust you'll know  
this digital ghost  
But I fear there's only so much time  
´cause the you I knew is fading away_

My danna is many things; old and clever, cruel, snarky and short tempered. He is cold, calculating, dangerously controlling. He hates to be disagreed with and seeks control over everything he is forced to deal with. In many ways, he is selfish.

He is not without compassion, but finding it takes such digging that sometimes I wonder if it is worth it to find what little remains. Sometimes it seems he is as devoted to me at least as much as I am to him, other times it seems I am merely an amusement. But he has always, since I met him, been a puzzle; he is deeper and more complex than anyone will ever know. Even as I find myself close to his heart, I am far from knowing who my danna really is.

Because of what he has become, I don't think I could ever hope to really attain that knowledge. Sasori-danna is ever changing, even though he believes himself as unchangeable as stone; eternal as the ocean. What I think he doesn't know is how the slightest breeze can wear out a stone, that even the ocean changes shape no matter how imperceptibly. Small changes in his life make small changes in his actions- the Sasori I met when he came to recruit me as his partner is not the danna I lay beside in bed.

More than anything, he cleaves to things he believes unyielding. I cannot offer him the stability he demands, but his puppets can. This is why before anything else, he has to spend time alone working on his 'art'. And the longer he works at those frigid things, the colder he himself becomes.

I hope that here, on this mission to Suna, something will happen to wake him up. Perhaps something in his homeland can remind him of real life in the way I cannot. Someone here might possess a key that I cannot understand that will bring my danna back from this precarious edge. Because I'm afraid otherwise he will lose himself entirely.

_fading  
fading  
away_

If there is one thing I am certain I am correct about, it is that there is no eternity outside of death.

No matter how he laughs at me for it, I know that if eternity is what Sasori-danna seeks, only in Death's embrace will he find it.

It's knowledge I could do without.


End file.
